Remember to Forget
by secretstudentdeR
Summary: Who would he be without his past to hold him down? Strong Harry but no bashing. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my new story, and I'm really excited. Please tell me what you think.**

 **Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter 1**

A boy with messy black hair cracked his bright green eyes open. He stretched his fingers and felt the crunch of leaves as wind tickled his face. He looked up at the blue-gray sky above him, the trees swaying in and out of his vision. He breathed in the fresh, cold, air that smelled of a forest.

He sat up and looked around. He was in the middle of a woods it seemed, and there was no sound, apart from the rustling of the leaves on the forest floor. Next to him was a backpack. He shivered and realized he was wearing only a green t-shirt, jeans, and some black trainers. There was a black jacket next to him and he quickly put it on.

The boy stood up and started to walk, swinging the backpack over his shoulder. He abruptly stopped when he realized he didn't know where he was going.

 _Where am I?_

 _Wait, who am I?_

The boy started to panic before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

 _Ok, what can't I remember?_ He couldn't remember his name, his age, his birthday, his parents, friends, home, school, hobbies-. The list got very overwhelming very quickly.

 _Ok, I can talk, and think and walk like a normal human being._ He thought, _I must have gone to school because I can do math, I know about the world, and I know..._

The boy took a deep breath and started walking, listing everything that he knew. He paused when he heard the sound of trickling water. He followed it to a small stream that had calm water. He bent over the water to look at his reflection.

The boy thought that he looked to be between 13 and 15 years old. He had tan skin, and was a decent height for what he thought his age was. He had some muscle, but had more of an athletic build, than one of a bodybuilder. He also had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

The boy sat down on the ground and opened up his backpack. Sitting on the top of everything else in the backpack, there was a journal. He pulled it out hoping it might give him a clue as to who he was. On the first page there was a short entry.

 _Dear, well, me I guess,_

 _I assume that you are confused. You probably can't remember anything, well, I know you can't remember anything. I am you. I am you before you forgot everything. Don't worry, we planned for this. The first thing I need to tell you is that you are a wizard and you can do magic. Hold out your hand and concentrate on making a small ball of fire appear._

That was it. There was nothing else written. The boy sighed and felt even more confused than he been before reading it. Wizards weren't real, magic was a thing of stories. He stared at what was written for a long time, before deciding to try using this "magic", because there was nothing else to do.

He held out his hand and concentrated. He closed his eyes and pictured a ball of fire sitting on his palm, not burning him, simply sitting there. He felt a tingle rush up his arms and opened his eyes. There was a ball of fire flickering in his hand. Slowly it flickered out, and the boy felt tired.

He looked back down at the journal and was surprised to see writing appear.

 _So as you can see magic is real. This journal is charmed only to show the next bit of writing when you have completed the task that I have set for you, as I know how stubborn, you, well, I can be. Doing magic will be easier for you, because technically, you already know it. The more you use it, the more you will remember about it. In your backpack, there is a book about the magical world. I suggest you read it now._

The boy sighed and shook his head. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. He had to do what the journal said, or else he wouldn't get to find out who he was, or why he lost his memories.

He pulled out the book. It said "The Magical World, By Chadwick Boot," The book was old, and was dated 1923. He wondered how relevant it would be.

He found a tree to settle against and began to read. The book told of governments, schools, beasts, creatures, and spells. He started to remember more about the wizarding world, like how there was a Ministry of Magic, and how there was a school called Hogwarts. He paused. Both were located near Great Britain, which meant he must be from near there. He smiled at his small victory of finding out where he was from.

When he got to the part about wands, he frowned. He had just done magic without one, yet here it was saying that wizards needed a wand to perform magic. The boy decided to experiment.

He put his hand up over some dead leaves and concentrated on swirling them around. Soon there was a small leaf tornado under his hand. He walked over to the river and held up his hand, watching as the water rose to meet it.

He shook his head puzzled. Maybe, the journal would have some answers. He settled into to read some more.

He finished the book and reopened the journal. There was a new entry written.

 _By now, you probably remember where you are from. You also know, that wandless magic is not common. It could be, but there is a mistaken belief that you need a wand to control the magic within, and around you._

 _You see, years ago, wands were created to help less powerful wizards control their magic. As their children grew up, they were taught they needed a wand. It's a mindset. As soon as you believe you need a wand, you need one. Magic is wild and to control it, you need to be confident. If you feel you need a wand, you will never be able to control it without one._

 _Don't believe me? Muggle borns have far more accidental magic occurrences than purebloods. They do not grow up believing that they need a wand. It is only when they get to Hogwarts that accidental magic stops._

 _When people are emotional and they make things shake, or break, they are too consumed by anger, grief, or happiness, to remember that they need a wand._

 _So now that you know that you do not need a wand, I expect, that even though there are two in the backpack, that you do not use them. One of them has the Trace, and one of them doesn't. You should only use them to keep up the appearance that you need them._

 _Now, find a town, find out where you are and what the date is._

The boy sighed and packed up his bag. He decided to follow the river downstream. After walking for a few hours he heard the sound of a car. He could see a road through the trees and saw a lone care traveling down the road. He decided to follow the road instead of the river.

Several hours later he stopped. He was starving and thirsty. He reached in his backpack and felt around. His hand seemed to go down for ages, until his whole arm was in. His hand closed around something sphere-like. It was an apple. He continued to walk as he munched on the apple.

Finally he saw a sign when it was almost dark out. It said "Black Perry Lookout." There were a few people up on a platform, looking out over the trees. He decided to stop and take a break there.

"Ay mate, you lost? You look lost," A young man in an Australian accent called out.

"Uh yeah, could you tell me where we are?" the boy asked.

"You're at Black Perry Lookout," the man pointed to the sign and chuckled, "Really you're in the middle of nowhere, I was out fishin' on the Tumut river. I was heading back to Adaminaby if you wanna hitch a ride. It's 'bout an hour."

The boy nodded.

"Sure,"

"What did you do to your head?" The man asked. "You must have took quite the digger to get a scar like that," The boy just shrugged, not knowing what to say. They walked over to the truck.

"Mate, you seem like a nice bloke, is there anyone I can call for you?" the man asked. The boy shook his head.

"My name's Matt, what's yours?" he said.

"Umm,"

"Oh I know- don't give your name to strangers, that's fine," With that Matt began to drive.

"You can catch a bus once we get there to wherever you want to go," Matt started to ramble about fishing and the outdoors all of the way until he pulled up next to a bus stop.

"Hey, uh, do you by chance happen to know what day it is?" The boy asked as he got out of the truck.

"Oh man, you must of really hit your head hard," Matt chuckled.

"It's July 2nd," he said. The boy cocked his eyebrow.

"It's cold outside?"

"Of course it is, it's July in Australia," Matt looked at the kid like he had grown a second head.

"Umm, thank you," The boy sat on the bench as the truck pulled away. He pulled out the journal.

 _So now you know that you are in Australia, hopefully, and that its around June 23rd, hopefully. You can find some money in the front pocket of your backpack. Find your way to Sydney, you shouldn't be more than 10 minutes away. You have a plane ticket for June 30th. Make sure you get there in time. Now, find yourself something to eat, you must be starving._

There was a map at the bus stop with the times the busses would be arriving. He was no expert, but he was pretty sure he was much farther away from Sydney that only 10 minutes.

Then he remembered why he needed to get to Sydney. He had to catch a plane. He had had to catch a plane 2 days ago. Something had gone wrong. He felt sick. His former self had planned for him to lose his memory, but something went wrong. He was late, and in the wrong place.

He looked at the schedule. He decided that he would go to Cooma, then to Canberra, and from there to Sydney. There wouldn't be a bus to Cooma for another 4 hours, since it was almost 10:00 pm. He looked across the street to a gas station. He headed over to get something to eat. He decided on a frozen sandwich and a water bottle, which he downed.

"Hey kid, you riding?" The boy opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep at the bus stop.

"Cooma?" he asked.

"Yeah, you coming?" The boy nodded and handed the bus driver some money.

He sat down on a seat in the middle of the bus, and opened the journal.

 _Now that you're on your way to Sydney, I suppose I should tell you your name. It's..._

 _Hunter._

 _Hunter Jay Parker._

 ** _Please review!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm sorry I haven't posted. Please read and review. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer, I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter 2**

Hunter Jay Parker. That was the only thought going through his mind. He knew his name. He knew what his parent's last names were. Hunter Jay Parker. He continued reading where he left off with a grin on his face.

 _Once you get to Sydney, just find a place to stay until you can go to Great Britain. Once you get there I'll have more instructions for you._

The bus pulled to a stop, and Hunter made his way to the front. An hour later he was on his way to Canberra. He slept most of the way there, and was rewarded with a huge pain in his neck. Once he got there, he decided that he didn't want to keep hopping from bus to bus. He purchased a map from another gas station, and found a train that could take him directly to Sydney.

It left at 6:27 a.m and he arrived in Sydney around 11:00.

He got a taxi to take him to the airport. Several hours later he left, weary. He would have to first go to Dubai and get a connection to London. It would cost roughly a thousand dollars. He had checked his bag and he had nowhere near that much. He would have to get a job. Hunter wandered through the streets, looking for somewhere to work.

~?~

Several weeks later, an owl flew through the window of a house in Little Whinging. A woman screamed as it pecked her.

"Dudders, get your father," she shrieked. "VERNON! HELP!"

"Blasted owl! Get out! Get out!" A pudgy tall man shooed the owl out of the window. He slammed the glass shut.

"That's the second today! When will those freaks realize that he's not here?!" The woman whined.

Another owl came to the window, and hit it dead on.

"That's it! I'll write back to them saying that the blasted boy isn't here!" Vernon's face was so red that a tomato would have been jealous. He stalked outside and grabbed the bird.

A few minutes later a bird was tossed out of the window and started its journey back to its home.

~?~

"Mum, Dad!" A redheaded boy called frantically.  
"What Ron?"

"Ronald, please don't scream in the house, your father is trying to work,"

"Molly, it's fine,"

"Oh alright, Arthur,"

"What's wrong Ron?" Arthur asked.

"It's Harry." Ron shoved a letter at his parents. It read:

 _ **You blasted freaks better stop writing to us. The boy isn't here! We don't need any more of your bloody owls**_ _._

A different handwriting took over.

 _Don't come to us wondering where he is. He disappeared the day after we brought him here so you better not blame us. We thought he was with you lot, but clearly he isn't as you keep bloody bothering us._

The first handwriting was back.

 _ **The next owl we get will be served at dinner that day!**_

The letter ended with the threat and the trio looked at each other.

"We better take this to Dumbledore," Arthur said gravely.

~?~

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE?!" thundered a furious godfather.

"It seems that young Harry is not at his relative's house," Dumbledore stated pleasantly, although the legendary twinkle in his eyes was missing.

"For how long?" demanded Sirius.

"Well, er, since the start of break, it seems," Arthur Weasley muttered.

"THE START OF BREAK! IT WILL BE AUGUST IN TWO DAYS!" Sirius yelled. The rest of the people in Dumbledore's office cringed. Gathered were many of the Order including Dumbledore, Arthur, Sirius, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Arabella Figg, Remus Lupin and the heads of the Hogwarts houses.

"Sirius, calm down!" scolded Remus.

"Could this have anything to do with Pettigrew turning up at the Ministry?" Professor Sprout asked. Three weeks after school ended, Peter Pettigrew had been found in the middle of the atrium in the Ministry of Magic, bound and gagged. He had confirmed the return of Voldemort and the innocence of Sirius Black. The wizarding world went into an uproar. It had only gotten worse when they realized that the Minister had known for weeks and had not told anyone.

In embarrassment, Cornelius Fudge resigned, and Amelia Bones replaced him. Lucius Malfoy and many other previous Death Eaters had been thrown into Azkaban. The Order had numbers far surpassing what they had had in the last war.

"I doubt it, as that would mean Potter would actually have been helpful..." drawled Snape. Sirius opened his mouth to defend his godson, but was silenced by a look from Remus.

"Does You-Know-Who have him?" asked Arabella in a trembling voice.

"I was with him yesterday, and he didn't mention anything," said Snape."He was actually planning to kidnap him from his relatives."

"And you didn't think to mention it?" Sirius mocked.

"Well, as he's not there it's not relevant," drawled the greasy-haired professor.

"Gentlemen." Dumbledore silenced the fight that was building up.

Silently, Dumbledore cast a Point Me spell. The wand spun in circles.

"What does that mean?" Tonks asks.

"It means he's not in the country, I'd reckon." Moody explained gruffly.

"I'll contact my colleagues from the ICW," Dumbledore said, "It shouldn't be too hard to find the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' "

"He needs to be found before Hogwarts starts, or the Daily Prophet will have a field day," Kingsley commented.

Several hours later the Order meeting was adjourned, and they all left tired but hopeful that a certain black-haired boy would soon be back in the country.


End file.
